


Sunrise

by TriplePirouette



Series: The Good Doctor [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Modern Day, Steggy Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25426258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: Post The Good Doctor. Peggy, Steve, and musings about modern life. Written for Tumblr’s Steggy Week Day 3: Modern Day
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: The Good Doctor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841680
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> For Steggy Week ’20 on Tumblr Day 3: Modern Day. I always wanted to play in this little universe again, so here we go. Highly suggested you read my fic The Good Doctor first. TL;DR: The Peggy that died in Civil War was a Hydra clone, the real Peggy Carter has been hidden in a cryogenic suspended animation all these years and was rescued by Steve, Sam, and Tony. Song at the end is “Stardust” by Glenn Miller.

She still woke up gasping for air in the middle of the night, every night, with the cold sensation of the green gel running down the back of her throat. She’d sit straight up in the bed that was somehow too soft and start counting, breathing in and out and trying to slow her racing heart the best she could.

It was rote now, waiting for her breath to come back before she stood and slipped on a robe and slippers, padded through the halls to the kitchen, and made herself a cup of warm tea to try to banish the cold feeling that still hadn’t left the back of her throat.

The first night she’d slept at the campus after leaving the hospital she’d panicked, eyes tearing up and hands shaking until she remembered where she was. She pulled a quilt over her shoulders and wandered the halls of the housing area, looking for something, anything that felt familiar. The young woman with the thick accent whose name she didn’t quite remember that first night poked her head out of her door, bleary eyed but concerned. Wanda had steered her to the kitchen and made her a warm cup of tea. “I was frightened when I came here, too,” she’d offered softly as she handed Peggy the steaming mug. Moments after Wanda had bid her good night Steve had wandered in, undoubtedly summoned by the young woman.

He steered her and her cup of tea to a couch by a window overlooking the east end of the campus. In near silence they watched the sun come up.

The next day there was a soft black robe and pair of matching slippers on her bed when she came back after dinner. More comfortable than a quilt. –Wanda

Peggy held her tea in her hands, letting the warmth radiate through her. She was fond of the advanced temperature controls of the future, but the air around her still felt too artificial and chilled some nights.

He was there, just like he had been every night since the first, sitting on the sofa facing the east end of the campus, waiting for her. She slipped wordlessly next to him, snuggling into his side as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She’d been awake and out of the lab for three weeks, and everything still felt strange. Steve tried so terribly hard to make her comfortable, to be there for her, but as much as he tried he couldn’t be with her every moment.

Over seventy years had passed. It was still hard to wrap her mind around when she thought of all that time she was semi-conscious in that tank. She was still barely able to remember names of the people she’d met in her new home. They’d been so nice to her, so welcoming. It wasn’t forced, but the welcome of a patchwork family who was happy to bring another lost soul to a safe place.

She spent most of her time in the lab with Tony and Bruce. Finding out who Tony was had been a shock, but she was slowly starting to be less guarded around him, to get to know him more. There was an apology growing deep in her belly, gnawing at her when she saw how he flinched sometimes when he looked at her, when the ghost of the other woman fell over her and he had a hard time separating them.

Bruce was a lovely man, but his energy was manic and whipped up anxiety in her. She’d heard about, but hadn’t yet seen, his alter ego. As much as she enjoyed the man’s company, she had no intention of meeting the Hulk any time soon.

Together they’d managed to find out that the Gamma and Vita Rays were what sustained her for so long. That her cells were showing some sign of changes at the genetic level. That she healed incredibly quickly but was only slightly stronger than she had been before she’d been taken by Hydra.

It was something, but in the end it meant little to her. She was here now, and to all appearances healthy, so that meant she had to find a way to make a life in this time.

She sighed and snuggled deeper into Steve’s embrace. “Do people still go to the movies?” She felt free to ask questions of him she deemed silly, things she’d never ask anyone else and that they’d never understand why she’d need to know.

She could feel his smile in the way his cheek moved against her hair. “They do. But there aren’t newsreels or cartoons anymore. Just the movie you’re going to see. ”

She sipped slowly. “Because the news is on the television?”

“Yes.” His fingers started to wander up and down her shoulder, setting a calming pace. “Twenty four hours a day.”

She kept her eyes on the horizon, watching as the inky blackness started to dissolve into colors. After a few quiet minutes she asked, “And music records are not around anymore?”

“Well,” he hemmed and hawed, shifting underneath her, “Technically they’re making a comeback, but most people keep their music on digital files, and listen on their cell phones.”

She bit a quiet laugh out at him. “Those squares of electronics? Those are not telephones.”

“They are!” Steve stole her mug and took a sip of her tea before she grabbed it back. “Phones and date books and you can text people and they’re a window to all of the information you could ever want to learn.” Peggy twisted so she could eye him as she took another pull from her mug. “I didn’t like it at first, either.”

The world was purple now, and bright pink and orange was starting to reflect through the sky. “I suppose I’ll get used to it?”

“Maybe.” His fingers fidgeted on his sweatpants. “There are still things I don’t like. Things I might never like.”

“Like?”

“Malls.” He flattened his hand on his pants and rubbed up and down. “Premade, bulk manufactured things.” He tipped his head against hers, their hair sliding softly together. “I liked being able to walk in a store and have the owner help me pick something he made, or he sourced. Mr. Roberts down the street made almost every pair of shoes I ever wore. He used to laugh at me when I brought them in with holes in the soles.”

“No cobblers nowadays?” Peggy reached out and threaded her hand with his; her nearly empty cup of tea balanced on her knee with her other hand.

“Here and there, but not like we used to have.” He lifted their hands up, turning them so he could look at their entwined fingers as the sun started to turn the view in front of them to golds and oranges. “I don’t like drinking out of plastic cups that just get thrown away. Or how many things are just disposable now. Fashion is different, too. I’m not much a fan of the fake finger nails and ripped jeans.”

“They pay for the rips?” She asked, letting her thumb rub lightly over his.

“Insane amounts.” He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hairline. “Most things aren’t like they used to be.”

She turned her head up to him. “Not even remotely.” She meant it to be light hearted, but her eyes filled with tears.

Gently, Steve pulled her mug from her hand and set it on the small end table next to the couch. He turned back and shifted, letting his forehead rest on hers, his arms wrapped loosely around her. “No. Not at all.” He took a deep breath, feeling how she was fighting to keep herself steady. “But I did it, I’m here. And you can do it, too. You’ve got all of us here to help you.”

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I might never learn quite how to get that computer in my room to work properly, but I have you.”

His kiss was soft, just a press of his lips to hers, but it was enough for the moment. She smiled at him and snuggled back into his arms, eyes out on the newly bright horizon of pinks and oranges. “I’ll sleep through the night one of these days.”

“You will when you’re ready.”

She couldn’t look at him. “I feel badly that you’re losing so much sleep on account of me.”

His hold tightened, just for a moment. “I’d never sleep again if it meant I got to hold you just like this, every morning.”

Before Peggy could speak, she heard a gagging noise behind her. “Sappy, Grandpa.” Tony stepped forward and looked at them over the edge of the couch. “You turned your comm off again, Rogers.”

Steve sat up and turned, Peggy following suit as she pulled her robe tighter. Steve was used to the ribbing. “You whippersnappers and your technology.”

“Ha ha ha,” Tony mocked. “Funny as this may be, we have a mission. Suit up and meet me down below in ten.” He hit Steve on the shoulder, and nodded at Peggy as he left. “Sorry to disrupt you.”

Peggy and Steve watched him leave, a heaviness between them. Last week, Peggy had confessed it was hard to watch him go out on missions without her. It was hard to watch anyone go out and do the work she loved, she’d admitted to him, and yet she wasn’t excited at the thought of getting back out there yet, either. Steve shrugged. “Probably wheels up in twenty.”

Peggy let her gaze fall to her lap, arranging her robe and the edge of her nightgown over her knee. “I’ll keep that brick you call a cell phone nearby. Let me know what you can.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “Only if you’ll text me back.”

She met his smile with a silly grin she couldn’t contain. “I’ll try.” She licked her lips and pressed them to a tight line. “I’m meeting with that therapist Sam recommended today. The one who…” the words caught in her throat and she had to look away.

“The one who specializes in POWs,” Steve finished, pulling Peggy into a tight embrace. “It’s a good idea,” he whispered, rocking gently.

“I know,” she croaked out. “I just…” She couldn’t bring words to her fears that as soon as she started talking about the horrible things she’d seen and the things that had happened, she wouldn’t be able to keep them all from flooding back on her and getting rid of any progress she’d made in taking back her life.

Steve leaned back, pushing the hair from her face. “You can do this.” At her nod, he kissed her softly on the forehead, then another gentle peck on the lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She watched him leave over the back of the couch, then smiled a few moments later as he passed her again on his way to the meeting, suited up and resplendent in his tactical gear. She picked the mug off the side table, the dregs of the tea cold and bitter now. Past the window in front of her the day was dawning bright.

Each new sunrise was one more than she ever thought she’d see again three weeks ago. The future was scary. She was constantly behind and re-learning things she thought she understood. The amount of what was now history that she had to learn was beyond comprehendible. But every day she learned a little more. Every day was a time to try something new.

“Friday,” she said quietly out into the void, still unsure about the machine that seemed to have control over just about everything in the complex, “Play ‘Music for Peggy.’”

“Playing Captain Roger’s playlist ‘Music for Peggy’ at twenty-five percent volume in the east viewing room,” the soft female voice replied.

The trumpets were first, then strings, stirring around her with a familiarity that made her instantly relax back into the cushions of the couch. Ellington, or maybe Shaw. No, Glenn Miller. Yes, she remembered hearing this one on the radio and swaying at her counter, wondering what it would have been like to have Steve walk up behind her while she was washing dishes and wrap his arms around her tight. She could see her apartment, smell the harsh soap just like it was yesterday.

Steve had known she needed a touchstone. Something old, wrapped up in the technology of something new. She was figuring it out, and one day, it would all somehow feel as comfortable to her as it seemed to feel for Steve.


End file.
